Page 101 of Fresh Old Bounties

“And now he’s left all the information with this broker person, who knows they can get a pretty penny out of me. How does the broker know they can get me to pay for the spellbook?”

“You didn’t sell it, meaning you want to keep it and the information inside all to yourself. Even if that wasn’t the case, they lose nothing by trying you first.”

It made sense. Which meant the broker didn’t necessarily know I’d do anything to keep Grandma’s memory and legacy untainted, so they might have no direct connection to me I could pursue. How irritating.

I rounded on Ian. “I still can’t believe you didn’t bother to figure out who they are. Are you sure you don’t know?” I studied him closely as I waited for his reply.

“There’s usually more than one active at any time.”

I poked his chest. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I made some inquiries but…”

“But?”

“These kinds of things are normal in a city as big as Olmeda. Digging any deeper might’ve burned my contacts. There was no need to press before now.”

“And will you press now?”

He gave me a considering look. A considering look! As if he was pondering if Grandma and I were worth him burning some bridges!

“Forget it.” I spun on my heel and made for the back door. “I’ll find them myself.”

“Hope, wait.”

I yanked the door open. “Nope.”

“I’ll ask around, but it’s Sunday. I’m not sure what I can discover in half a day.”

“Don’t break your back on my account,” I said in my haughtiest voice. “Oh, and maybe I don’t want to do Halloween here anymore.” I slammed the door behind me.

It was petty, but he and his callousness where the dark paranormal world was concerned deserved it.

My mood hadn’t improved by the time I got to the shop and found it still closed because Dru had taken the day off. It was already midmorning on a lovely, chilly October day, which meant I was losing possible customers.

I showered and opened the shop as fast as possible, then retreated behind the counter to keep simmering in my outrage. Today, I was determined to ignore the fact that, again, I knew who Ian was and had accepted all of him when agreeing to date him. The nice gestures, and his natural propensity for keeping to the sidelines and doing nothing about anything, and argh!

“You seem stressed, dear,” Bagley said from one of the T-shirts stacked on the shelf behind the counter.

I had gotten really good at pinpointing the origin of her voice, and I wasn’t sure what that said about me or my current life.

“I’m not stressed.”

“Perhaps make some of that chamomile with honey you like so much?” Her voice was kind and grandmotherly, her words the kind of thing my grandmother might’ve said.

It made me want to throw things.

At Ian’s head.

“It’s nothing.” But I busied myself preparing some tea, anyway. The evil devil spawn was right—it would help me cool down.

My phone pinged with a message. It was from Keith, congratulating me on my karaoke performance. Wonderful. I sent it and him to the same mental space as the other five people who had already messaged me about the video.

“Anything I can help with?” the evil old hag asked.

“Can, yes. Will you? Hah!”

“My, my. We’re in a temper.”

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